Then more forcibly, as if he were uttering some necessary formula to establish a fact:
“I am Nelis Imfry, of the House of Imfry-Manholm. I am a Colonel in the service of Her Majesty, Queen Ludorica of Reveny. I am me—Nelis Imfry!”
He was quiet then, his eyes seeking the stars where the wind-tossed branches alternately revealed and hid their glitter. A wan- ing moon was rising, its sickle of silver cutting the cloudless sky.
“I remember, but it is as if those memories have dimmed. Yet I am Nelis Imfry, and the rest of it is true.”
“Yes,” she told him.
Her agreement appeared to startle him out of that traneelike state. He turned swiftly as if he feared to face an enemy. Gazing full at her he stood silently, as one might study a landmark which was altered from what he thought it had been.
“Tell me,” he ordered, “what has chanced. While I was in darkness.”
“When I tried to stop Sandar the energy ray lanced across one of the pillars. It set off a chain reaction—all the installation was destroyed—the crowns are gone.” Would he understand?
His dark brows drew together in a frown. “Crowns? Pillars?”
“The installation left by the Psychocrats to rule this world—”
His mouth set firmly. “The Queen rules Reveny.”
“Now she does,” assented Roane, wondering if that were indeed the truth, or if the destruction of the crowns had pulled down upon Reveny the fate of Arothner.
“You speak of facts you believe in, but it is not clear to me. Make me understand!” He advanced as if he intended to shake it out of her.
She was afraid again. This haggard stranger was not Nelis Imfry. Was this what the destruction of the crowns meant? For there was as noticeable a change in him as there had been in Ludorica when she held the Ice Crown.
“It is a long story,” she said helplessly.
“That does not matter. Tell it!”
So once more she went over the familiar tale. Only this time she had no relief in the telling, only a cold feeling born not of the chill wind about them, but rather of a great loneliness.
He listened intently, though little change of expression was apparent on his lean face. He might have been some judge presiding over a trial where she was the accused. Imfry did not interrupt her with any questions, but heard ig8 her through to that end which was the unplanned destruction of the installation. And when she was done Roane wavered. The pain in her eyes was worse, spreading back into her head, so that she was more aware of that than her surroundings.
“You understand the danger if those of the Service find us. They must not!” She put all the energy she had left into that last warning. Her eyes—her head—she could not stand it any longer. She remembered swaying, the sound of a cry, and then pain, a great sea of fire, engulfed her.
Coolness, blessed coolness—dark and cool. To hide in this dark, cool place and never venture forth again. Sensation rather than thought. Cool and wet—the fire going. She did not want to move, yet she was moving. Roane tried to protest, discovered she had not the energy to form words. She heard dimly a moaning sound. “Roane—” A ripple through the cool dark. No—let her alone-just let her alone! “Roane!”
Dimly she knew that for a summons. She would not answer. Let her be! She was moving, though not on her own two feet. And the jar set her head hurting, so she made a great effort and thought she begged to be let alone. But if they heard her they did not heed. She escaped once again into the cool dark.
But the second time she was drawn out of that refuge she could not slip back. She lay on a surface which was not soft, though there was that under her which cushioned it a little. Her face was wet, as if she had been out in a storm, but that came from a soaked cloth laid across her forehead and eyes. At least she lay still, no moving racking her body.
“. . . tall as a keep, I swear to you, sir. Nothing like it I have ever seen. And I counted five men come out of it. They went in and out by ladder, taking stuff back in. But a couple more went into that cave. Seeing that thing, you have to believe the whole story. But men traveling to the stars? You have to have proof of a tale such as that. And with one feeling like his head was empty—well, I could say this was a dream—or some Soothspeaker trick. Are you sure, sir, it is not? I mean, if Shambry was strong enough to hold the Queen in thrall that way, maybe he could be working on us now—even at a distance.”
“A man cannot make you see what he does not know exists. That star ship has no match here.”
“True enough. But this queer feeling in one’s head—though that is wearing off now, sir. But I tell you it was really bad when it first hit. Mattine ran around in a circle for a space, actually yelling he was a Nimp scout or some such nonsense. At least I thought I heard him say that. Hunlow had to lay him out when he drew steel. And the rest of us, we did not even know our own names for a while. If it was like that for us here, just think of what might have happened in a town with all the people going dazed or crazy. Some seem to take longer to get over it. Fleech did. We had to lug him along for quite a march and tell him over and over who he was and where we were. Nasty experience. Worse than facing a Nimp charge.”
Wuldon. Roane’s sluggish mind matched a name to that voice. Who else was with him? They—or Wuldon—must have seen the LB. But what if its crew was now hunting them? She must warn—
It required such an effort to force her hand up to her face, to tug at the fold of wet cloth blindfolding her.
“Nelis—” Hers was a ghost voice, a thread of whisper.
But it brought quick response. “Roane!” And her hand was stayed in its effort to sweep aside the cloth, put down to lie once more at her side. So he knew—understood again?
“Let that be for a while yet. Your eyes are badly inflamed. Do you know who I am?”
Did he think she was the one who had been out of her head? “Nelis Imfry,” she answered with a spurt of indignation. “And Wuldon is here, too. But—” She remembered that other urgency. “Nelis—the ship—they must not find us!”
“I assure you they shall not. We have a range of hills between zoo us, and scouts out. I have all the respect for their powers you wish me to show. We take no chances. And at the first sign of any hunt we shall be on the trail again. Now”—a strong arm was slipped under her head, she was raised a little—”drink this!”
Cool metal against her lips. She sipped and then choked and coughed, for the liquid had a spicy warmth.
“No—” She found his hold was such she could not avoid what he offered. “More—it is what you need now.”
After the first mouthful or two she discovered it was not bad. So she obediently drank until the cup was taken away. “My bag—the medicines—” “Here, m’lady!” That was Wuldon.
“Look for a white tube.” With the spicy drink downed, Roane was regaining both strength and the ability to think for herself again. “It holds a green liquid—drops for the eyes.” “Got it!” Then Imfry added, “How many?” “Two each—for now.”
He settled her back on the thin bedding pad and the wet cloth was pulled away. Light dazzled and hurt, but she forced herself to lie still as the moisture dripped in. That burned, but with none of the pain she had known earlier. She held her lids tightly closed. If there would be any relief it would come quickly. Slowly she counted to a hundred, but not aloud, hearing small sounds as if they were repacking her bag. Then she opened her eyes. The light hurt, but she could see—and more clearly than she had since the chain reaction.
Nelis, the stubble beard longer and darker, a tousled lock of hair sticking to his forehead as if plastered there—the Sergeant at an angle.
“I can see,” Roane said, more to assure herself than to inform them. “Let me look—please, let me look.” For suddenly she must reassure herself of this recovery.
Once more Nelis raised her before she could struggle up on her own. They were in a clearing and she thought it must be mid-morning. Men moved or sat some distance away. Behind them a rope was strung between two trees, a tie place for the reins of saddled duocorns, who stamped or wrinkled their hides to drive off insects.